


Unscrew the locks from their doors

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: Radioactive [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Implied Curufin/Finrod - Freeform, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 11:02:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1855678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Nargothrond, Celegorm and Curufin fall into dangerous habits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unscrew the locks from their doors

The first time it happened, it had been an accident.

He’d barged into his brother’s room without knocking, like he always did, and was halfway through pulling off his hunting gloves when he looked up and saw Curufin splayed across the bed, his head back and his hand busy.

Celegorm had frozen, uncharacteristically speechless. But Curufin had just looked up at him and said roughly, “Either get out or come in, but close the door behind you.”

Celegorm had stayed. But he closed the door.

-

 It happened again, a week or so later. Celegorm, never one to underestimate the machinations of his brother’s crafty mind, half wondered if he orchestrated it – their doors had locks, after all. Curufin had seen to that their first week in Nargothrond, eyeing the flimsy latches dismissively and telling Finrod he could do better. When Finrod had said, mildly, that they didn’t really see the need for personal chambers to have strong locks in the fastness of Nargothrond, Curufin had looked at him pityingly and turned away.

The following day, complex iron locking mechanisms had been fixed on both Celegorm and Curufin’s quarters. Curufin had smiled a sharp secret smile over his forge, but Finrod had just shaken his golden head – indulgently, Celegorm had thought, annoyed – and said nothing of it.

So there was no reason for his brother to take the risk of being walked in on – and while Celegorm could be accused of carelessness, and had been, many times, the same could not be said of Curufin.

The fifth son Fëanor was many things, but careless was not one of them.

And so Celegorm wondered, but not for very long, when for the second time he walked in on his brother pleasuring himself.

(He supposed he could just start knocking, but dismissed the notion out of hand almost immediately. Where was the fun in that?)

So this time, instead of just watching, he’d settled himself in the heavy chair opposite the bed, legs spread wide. As he watched his brother’s sharp grey eyes close in pleasure and heard his harsh pants for breath, he’d tugged at the laces of his breeches, loosening them enough to free himself. And then he’d matched his strokes to Curufin’s, eyes never leaving his younger brother’s face until the end, when he couldn’t help but squeeze his eyes shut at the blank rush of orgasm.

 -

“What do you think about?”

Curufin tilted his head up to regard Celegorm, who was standing above him.

Celegorm made a crude gesture. “When you’re – you know.”

Curufin’s eyes flickered, and he looked amused. “Aredhel.”

Celegorm twitched his fingers, impatient. “Liar.”

Curufin smiled slowly. “How do you know, brother? I followed you, back then. I crept after you when you took her into the woods and watched from a tree as you rolled about in the grass. How do you know I’m not remembering spying on the two of you back in Valinor, your hand slipping up under her dress, the wetness on her thighs…” He sighed and let his head fall back on the pillows, a smile playing around his lips as he stroked a hand down over his bare chest, slowly moving lower.

Celegorm growled and leaned down, planting his hands on either side of Curufin’s head. “You’re trying to make me angry.” His breath ghosted hot over Curufin’s cheek.

“Ah, you know me too well, brother.” Curufin’s eyes flashed wickedly, and he licked his lips. “But I’m not lying. I did spy on you and Aredhel in Valinor, though it was not her I was watching.”

Celegorm dragged his gaze down Curufin’s bare torso, and lower, following the progress of his brother’s hand.

“It was you I was watching,” Curufin breathed, “the swell growing between your legs as you touched her, the noises you made when she palmed you through your breeches… I always wanted to hear you make those noises for _me_.”

Celegorm swallowed a groan and hoisted himself onto the bed, straddling Curufin’s thighs. He pulled impatiently at the laces of his leggings and pulled himself free, wrapping one hand around himself and letting loose a groan at last.

Curufin was watching him avidly, his own hand moving in tandem. “Yes,” he whispered. “Just like that.”

Unable to resist the temptation, Celegorm swayed his hips down so his heavy erection could brush against Curufin’s. Curufin let out a hiss and suddenly his hands were seizing tight on Celegorm’s biceps, fingernails digging deep.

Celegorm wrapped his hand around both of them and after that, it didn’t take long before Curufin was arching up against him and his own breath was coming in quick gasps and they were coming together, making a mess across Curufin’s stomach.

Celegorm threw himself off to the side and let out his breath in a long groan. “ _Eru_.”

Curufin leaned over the edge of the bed and grabbed something with which to clean himself.

Ever fastidious, thought Celegorm lazily, and then sat up with a cry of protest. “That’s my tunic!”

“You should have thought of that beforehand,” said Curufin, bored, finishing with the tunic and tossing it aside. He swung his legs off the bed and leaned over to snag his own clothes, folded neatly over the back of the chair.

Celegorm lay back in the bed, shirtless, his leggings still unlaced, his hair a wild mess over the pillows. He watched as Curufin dressed, caught his hair back in a braid, and went over to his desk to fiddle with some complex, many-cogged device that bored Celegorm just to look at it.

“You were still lying,” he said at last. “About what you were thinking of. Or whom.”

Curufin made no reply, and the silence stretched out until the little device started ticking steadily. Celegorm fell asleep to its metronome’s song.

 -

It was dangerous, dangerous to get this close, he thought, rutting between his brother’s thighs as Curufin panted beneath him. It would be easy, so easy, to take that one step further and _push_ into that tight heat between Curufin’s legs. But that would be too far, that would be crossing a line… that would be…

Curufin gasped, “Eru be damned, _do it_.”

Celegorm groaned at the temptation. “Curvo…”

Curufin growled and bit at his throat. “ _Fuck_ me already, you useless piece of – _ah –_ ” He broke off with a sharp gasp as Celegorm, teeth bared, pushed into him, none too gently.

“Like that?” he rasped, starting to move.

For once Curufin seemed beyond words. His head fell back and his eyes closed, his chest heaving as his hands clenched spasmodically on Celegorm’s hips. “Yes,” he managed at last.

He kept his eyes closed as Celegorm found a steady rhythm, rocking deeply into him as Curufin’s legs came up to lock around his waist. Curufin’s eyes stayed closed as he started to arch his back, as his breath came harder and the noises he made became deeper, more uncontrolled. Celegorm felt a burst of anger that he couldn’t quite place.

“I know your secret,” he whispered at last, wrapping an arm under Curufin’s lower back and jerking him closer to his own chest. “I know who you're thinking about.”

Curufin’s eyes flicked open, silver slits in the dim room.

“Can I pass for him?” Celegorm grinned down at his brother, all teeth and merciless blue eyes. “In this light, maybe. Oh, but I know,” he reached up with one hand to drag the clasps from his braids and shake his wild fair hair down around them, “he wears his hair loose, doesn’t he?”

Curufin bared his teeth in a wordless snarl. “Shut up, Tyelko.”

Celegorm laughed breathlessly, “If only I had that ridiculous necklace of his. Then you could tear at it with your teeth as he – I – fucked you. Your _Ingoldo – ”_

“Shut _up,_ Tyelko!” Curufin gave a cry of frustration and seized Celegorm’s hair painfully hard, wrapping it around his long, clever fingers and pulling so that Celegorm hissed in pain, their faces inches apart. “Shut up,” Curufin snarled again, “Shut _up_ , you bastard, you – ” and he brought their lips together in a brutal kiss.

It was the last taboo, the last line they hadn’t crossed, and there was something so disturbingly intimate about it that Celegorm knew instantly that it was going to send him over the edge.

 -

Curufin didn’t get up this time, didn’t get dressed and start for the work on his desk or in his forge.

Celegorm propped himself up on one elbow and watched him. Light flickered behind those clear grey eyes, and for a moment, Celegorm was put disturbingly in mind of their father.

He wanted to ask, _Did you leave the door unlocked for him or for me?_ but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He feared Curufin would answer honestly, and whatever answer he gave would be terrifying.

Instead he brushed a hand lightly over his brother’s cheek, and his eyes closed. Curufin let out a sigh.

“Make sure the door is locked,” he said roughly, and turned away.

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. So. I don't write much smut, much less kind of fucked up smut, so concrit welcome.
> 
> 1\. I'd say this was unapologetic smut, but I feel a little apologetic about it.
> 
> 2\. Title taken from Walt Whitman, in hopes he'd be understanding.


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